speaking of sisters, there's a place, among old -- & jovial, reproach-full; tepid abashed & demurely cold -- old London, where there's "Seven Sisters"that is named after a patch-grove of trees, and perhaps it's the case that the name lasts and the trees don't, because there's little care taken to maintain the roots of things, or maybe it's the case that war events, or otherwise accidental conflagration, deleted the trees.
Or are they still there, the trees? Shall I bravely check?
(in a moment)
the answer: I shan't check so as to not know the absence of patch-grove -- maybe try to retain what a place has been named after/for, once in a while.
I lived in London, when twoish, above a shop that was probably like a "corner shop" and later (when not two) while a failing student, trajectory of which I have continued along, although not in London.
Am in decline but, have been formulating "sister complex" which I am entitled to do with no shame, recrimination &c, having the most minimum of actual sisters, i.e., none . . . I have not the slightest sister, and this is making me sad.
I lived in London, when twoish, above a shop that was probably like a "corner shop" and later (when not two) while a failing student, trajectory of which I have continued along, although not in London.
Am in decline but, have been formulating "sister complex" which I am entitled to do with no shame, recrimination &c, having the most minimum of actual sisters, i.e., none . . . I have not the slightest sister, and this is making me sad.
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